


Green-Eyed Monster

by afteriwake



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, F/M, Jealous Sherlock, POV Sherlock Holmes, Pool & Billiards, Post-Season/Series 03, Sherlock-centric, Some Humor, plans gone awry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2015-11-25
Packaged: 2018-05-03 08:41:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5284154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock gets talked into going out to a pub with his friends, but what he thought was going to be an evening doing one thing turns into an evening playing pool, which he finds rather boring. When Lestrade ropes Molly into playing a game with him and Sherlock, though, things get interesting, especially when he finds himself getting jealous of Lestrade’s attention towards her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Green-Eyed Monster

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Superwholockian2108](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Superwholockian2108/gifts).



> So a _long_ while back I got a prompt on Tumblr from **Superwholockian2108** where I was asked " _Can you do a fic where Sherlock, Molly, Lestrade are playing a game of pool, with the Watsons watching, and Molly is distracting Lestrade and Sherlock with her feminine wiles, unwittingly, as in Sherlock and Lestrade are ogling her? Cue Jealous!lock. The Watsons are just laughing at them._ " It appears that it may have been modified from [a post](http://goddess1903.tumblr.com/post/124578372641/anyone-for-a-sherlolly-prompt) made by **goddess1903** , so I'm including credit to her as well for the prompt. My mom wanted in on the acronym fun and so she picked this one and I wrote it last night but due to rain (and the fact I leech my internet) I was unable to post it until today. So I do hope you enjoy, even if it is a bit late!

It wasn’t often that he went out with the others to have a night out at the pubs. It wasn’t the type of thing he typically enjoyed doing, even if he was out with his friends. But he’d had Mary and Molly both beg him to go out to an event that was going on at a pub that friends at their gym had recommended at The Book Club. However, the two of them had been outvoted at the last minute by John and Lestrade, who wanted to play pool. As it stood, the evening had been a little less than enjoyable and Sherlock had almost regretted coming out at all.

They’d been playing doubles pool at The Bell, with John and Mary paired against him and Lestrade for most of the evening. Sherlock knew why, of course; Mary was a pool shark, and as they’d been laying friendly wagers on the games it was the only way Lestrade would get out of the pub without being flat broke, as he and John insisted they keep playing. He was actually quite bored, because he and Mary were rather evenly matched. As the latest game came to a close he considered telling his friends that he’d had an interesting evening (not an outright lie but not even close to the truth) but he felt it best to go home when Lestrade looked over at Molly. “Fancy a game?”

Molly shook her head. She’d been sipping on a whiskey and cola, which Sherlock could tell was not the drink she’d _wanted_ to drink tonight, for the better part of the evening and there was barely any of it gone. “I’m absolute rubbish at pool,” she said. “If there are wagers on the game I’ll lose everything.”

“We could wager something other than money,” Lestrade said, a bit of a suggestive grin on his face. Sherlock scowled at that. Lestrade had had a few pints at this point and he’d been giving Molly a bit too many lascivious looks for his liking. 

“I could help you,” Sherlock said quietly, cutting off Lestrade’s suggestion before he made it. "And we could keep at least the first game wager free, until we see how good you are."

“You know, we could sit this one out,” Mary said, an amused look on her face. “I think John deserve the chance to let our purse strings take a rest.” She gave her husband a knowing look and Sherlock resisted the urge to groan. He knew that look. That was Mary’s patented meddling look. She was up to something, and he had the feeling it involved him and Molly, and he wasn’t sure he was going to be happy about it.

“I think we should,” John said, nodding with a damn knowing look on his own face. Damn it to hell, he was going to help.

He _hated_ his friends sometimes.

“Well, if you’ll help…” Molly said, looking up at Sherlock. She got off her stool and moved over to him. “Thank you, Sherlock.”

He nodded and then took her over to the rack holding the cues. “We need to find a cue that feels right for you. It should be the right weight and the right balance.”

She reached over and plucked a cue from the rack and hefted it. “How do I know if it’s right?”

“You go to the table and try to hit a ball with it,” he said. “If it feels too heavy or too light, then it’s not the right one for you to use.”

She nodded and then went to the table. He went around to the other side and then stood next to Lestrade. Molly leaned over and Sherlock swallowed slightly. She had worn a shirt that, at least when she was upright, didn’t seem revealing, but at _this_ angle provided a rather nice view right down her cleavage, revealing the edges of a very lacy black bra. “It feels right enough, I suppose.”

“Excellent,” Sherlock said, his mouth slightly dry. He reached over for the bottle of lager that he’d gotten from the bar and took a long drink. He’d been ignoring it most of the night so it was warm now and tasted rather awful, but it got his mouth wet. He saw Lestrade watching (ogling was a more appropriate term, unfortunately) and pulled away to set up the balls. “We should let Lestrade crack, as you and I have an unfair advantage.”

“What?” Lestrade said, snapping out of his daze. “Oh.” He reached over for his cue and then came over to set up the cue ball in the position he wanted it as Sherlock set up the balls for Lestrade to shoot it at. Once Sherlock was done Lestrade hit the cue ball and the balls scattered across the table. One of the striped balls went into a pocket. “I’m stripes, you’re solids.”

Molly nodded as she moved closer to Sherlock. “What are our chances?” she asked.

“Fairly good,” he said. “Lestrade’s in his cups so he’ll be sloppy. I’ve barely touched my lager so we should be fine.”

“Good,” she said, looking up at him, giving him a smile. “I’d like to kick his arse.”

He grinned back just faintly, surprised at what her smile could do to him, before turning his attention back to the game. Lestrade sank one more ball in a pocket before he didn’t make a shot. Sherlock studied the position of the various balls and saw that they could make one ball now, then two with the next shot. After that there were two potential shots, though one was trickier than the other. “All right. Let me help you line up the shot.”

“You aren’t going to make it for me?” she teased.

He shook his head. “That would be cheating.”

“And you never cheat,” she said.

“I try not to,” he replied. She moved in front of him and he leaned over her. After a moment her backside burrowed into him and he bit back a groan. That was an uncomfortable position, for him at least, making him think about other things they could be doing. He barely even thought about those things, but here, now, with her so close and in that position, it flitted across his mind. But he tamped it down and concentrated on getting her in position to take the shot. Then he moved away, with some reluctance. “All right. Hit it firmly, but not too hard.”

She did, and the ball sank into the pocket, hitting the balls Sherlock had expected it to on the way in. Molly turned to him with a wide smile on her face. “I did it!”

“Yes, you did,” Sherlock said, his grin wider than the last time. He studied the next shot and pointed to a ball. “All right. The next ball you’re going to hit is that one.”

“No, that’s not the best shot,” Lestrade said. He came over to Molly and looked at the table, pointing to a different ball. “You want to go for that one.”

Sherlock gave his friend a mild glare. “I’m helping Molly, Lestrade, not you.”

“Just trying to give some friendly advice,” he said, putting his hands up. “No reason to get jealous.”

“I could use your help too,” Molly said, moving to put a hand on Lestrade’s chest. “I could try and make that shot. Why don’t you help me?”

“All right,” Lestrade said. Sherlock’s jaw set as Lestrade moved behind her to position her for the shot. He glanced over at Mary and saw her stifling a laugh at his discomfort and he glared at her. She gave him an innocent look in return and that just made it even worse. He watched as Lestrade’s hand caressed Molly’s waist and his hand balled into a fist.

Bloody hell, there was nothing he wanted to do more right now than to pull Lestrade away, haul off and slug him across the face.

He had to get out of here.

“I need some air,” he said, grabbing his coat just as Molly took her shot. Molly squeaked slightly, her cue missing the cue ball and hitting one of the striped balls instead. But he didn’t care. He turned and walked away, leaving the basement game room and making his way out of the pub. To be honest, he needed more than air. He needed to put as much space between him and all of them as he could right now. He needed to get his raging hormones and his rising temper and his irrational jealousy under control.

And he needed to figure out what the bloody hell he was going to do about how he felt about Molly.

He got out to the street and started walking. He could have hailed a cab but he just started to walk. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that it took a moment for him to realize Molly was chasing after him, her coat flapping open and her heels clacking on the pavement. He stopped and waited for her. “I thought you just needed air,” she said in between trying to catch her breath.

“I changed my mind,” he said, shoving his hands in his Belstaff. “I’ve had enough of this evening.”

“Yeah, it hasn’t exactly been what I’d planned, either,” she said, giving him a wry smile. She pulled her coat around her. “I almost wish Mary and I had stuck to our guns and we’d gone to The Book Club after all. I mean, there were parts of tonight that were nice, but…”

“I didn’t have that enjoyable of an evening,” he said.

“Oh,” she said sadly, looking down.

“I mean, aside from when I was helping you,” he said, mentally slapping himself. “That was nice.”

She was quiet for a moment before looking up. “I’m not sure if you find spoken word events all that interesting, but…maybe we can go to The Book Club and catch what’s left of the event?” she asked tentatively. “If you want to, I mean.”

“Do they have better food there?” he asked

“They have _phenomenal_ bar food from what I’ve heard,” she said with a smile. “They have all sorts of platters you can share, like the meat platter and the vegetarian platter and two different fajitas platters, and then they have burgers and bar-b-que ribs and nachos. There’s also mixed olives and pork scratching and Cajun wedges and calamari as actual bar food. And the cocktails are divine as well, according to my friends. Supposedly the Peaching To The Converted is supposed to be amazing.”

“Then I guess we’ll have to try it,” he said, giving her a small grin.

“Should we go get Mary?” she asked.

“We can make it up to her later,” he said. “I think after everything I’d like tonight to be just you and I.”

Molly looked up at him with a smile and then, hesitantly, reached over for his hand. When he gave it to her she threaded her fingers with his and stepped closer to him before he reached out to hail them a cab. The evening hadn’t gone quite as planned, and there had been moments he hadn’t exactly been happy to live through, but it seemed as though it would all have a happy ending after all.


End file.
